


Cold Turkey

by RoadrunnerGER



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: AU, Denial, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-10 18:16:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13507098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoadrunnerGER/pseuds/RoadrunnerGER
Summary: Thanks to the nice cop on the other end of the Butterball Hotline, Rafael Barba cooked a perfect Thanksgiving dinner. In order to thank the voice that saved him, Barba invited Detective Sonny Carisi over to try the turkey...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Robin Hood (kjack89)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Butterball](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13396803) by [Robin Hood (kjack89)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/Robin%20Hood). 



> Sometimes it’s funny to see how a story is writing itself. When I asked Robin Hood if I could try my hand at a sequel to "Butterball", I had a plot idea in mind that started out with one of the very first lines: >>And Rafael Barba is currently hiding in the bathroom, on hold with the Butterball Hotline, and praying that his mother and assorted familial guests don’t decide to check on him in the kitchen.<<  
> Didn’t any of his great aunts or cousins go into the kitchen during the following four hours??? That’s what I got started with… and 19 pages later, I was surprised by what had unfolded. I hope you’ll enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing. Enjoy!

 

Once they had finished dinner, Barba’s family soon declared that they should call it a night. They did not even need the hour he had estimated. His great aunts were the first to stand from the dining table, closely followed by his cousins. All of a sudden, it seemed as if they could not get out of Barba’s apartment fast enough, and so he was busy seeing them off.

Upon his return to the living room, he found his mother, Lucia, collecting the dining plates.

“Let me do that,” he muttered, intercepting her hand as she was about to pick up another plate.

“You’ve already done the cooking,” Lucia replied. “Helping you clear the table is the least I can do.”

“I’m the host,” he shot back, taking the plates from her and putting them back onto the table. “It’s _my_ responsibility.”

Turning to look her son directly in the eye, she smiled at him with a strange mix of pride and sadness.

“Yes, Rafa, you were the host,” she told him lovingly, lightly patting his cheek. “And you did very well. The turkey was delicious.”

For some odd reason, he felt as if there was a _but_ coming and his insides tightened with the idea. _Forty-five years and still afraid of Mama_ , he inwardly groused, which was instantly followed by a warm and loving feeling for his mother.

“Your cooking was spot on,” Lucia went on, unfazed, “por desgracia, you forgot about your guests while being on the phone for as long as the turkey cooked.”

Hearing that, Barba felt heat rise in his cheeks and he hoped that they did not take on a violent shade of red.

“I... I was on the Butterball Hotline,” he stammered and admitted, “They talked me through making the turkey.”

Lucia stared at him with that look that meant 'you think I'm stupid?' Now he was pretty certain that he was blushing crimson red. Faltering under her motherly glare, he blurted out,

“I’ve never made a turkey before! I needed help!” With a sigh, he admitted, “I wanted to make you proud.” He honestly felt like a little boy again. Certainly, that was something that never changed between a mother and their children as long as they lived.

Lucia’s glare made room for a loving smile.

“I know, Rafa,” she said, squeezing his shoulder. “That’s why I covered for you. The only thing I don’t get is why you’ve spent the whole time on the phone. I mean, the turkey could have cooked on its own, don’t you think?”

“Probably,” Barba groused. Those four hours had been the best of his life recently, and he did not want anyone to belittle what he had shared with the nice detective on the other end of the line.

_What did I share?_ His doubts hit him square in the chest that he felt constrict with wondering if he had not made a mistake inviting Sonny over. _Did I read more into our conversation than there was?_

He liked to think that Sonny would not have agreed that readily to meeting him if he was mistaken.

_Though, maybe he’s just glad to not having to spend the rest of Thanksgiving on his own._

“What’s on your mind, mi hijo?” Lucia asked, an inquisitive gaze mingling with her soft smile.

As so often, Barba could not stand up to that look.

“It may sound stupid,” he relayed and actually felt a flutter in his stomach as he went on, “but… the man on the hotline was so friendly. It was… nice to talk with someone. Not that I wouldn’t talk with people. It just was nice to talk with someone about something else but work… and with him, it was easy.”

“You talked about more than just turkey?” Lucia easily guessed.

“Sure,” he came back, “We’ve talked about the side dishes as well. Green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, the dressing…” There he trailed off, his mother’s features clearly prompting him to stop evading the actual subject. Lamely, he finished, “He walked me through all of it.”

“Trabajas demasiado, Rafa,” Lucia complained, knowing quite well how much she could rile him up with that issue. “You’re all work, no fun. Maybe there’s still hope for you,” she murmured more softly now, “if that phone conversation could make you realize that you’re missing out on something.”

“Mama…”

“Mi querido hijo,” Lucia said wistfully, breathing a kiss onto his cheek, “I just wish for you to be happy, Rafael.”

Suddenly, Barba had a lump in his throat. Aside from the fact that he worked too much in his mother’s opinion, his private life, or lack thereof, often was the cause of grief for her.

“I am happy,” he told her, and it sounded lame, even to his own ears. “My work is very satisfying.”

Scoffing, she gave him the look he was so well familiar with, the look that said: ‘do you actually believe what you’re saying?’ As if that was not enough, his subconscious reacted quite differently to his use of the word _satisfying_ , connecting it with a lustful fantasy about lips meeting and hot bodies writhing in a tangle of limbs. Closing his eyes for a second, Barba tried to chase the thought away.

“You’re forty-five, Rafa,” his mother said softly. “You know how much I would have loved it if you had stayed with Rita and founded a family… It’s not too late, though.” Sensing his objection, she held up a stalling hand. “You deserve happiness, Rafael, and if you can’t find it with Rita, then I wish for you to find it with somebody else. During the last years, your life solely revolved around work, your job, your cases… and Catalina.”

Seeing that he was prepared to protest, she went on, “No. Don’t give me that. I know you loved her. I loved her, too. She was my mother and I miss her. I will always miss her. It hurt that she was not with us tonight. But you know what, Rafa?”

Keeping her gaze resting on his now clueless features, she waited if he would make a suggestion. When he remained silent, she said, “It also hurt to see that there was nobody by your side. It hurt that you are so alone.”

“I’m not alone,” he contradicted her, thinking of Liv and other friends at work.

“You’re so lonesome that you forgot all about your family while you were on the phone with a stranger, Rafa,” Lucia told him sternly. “As much as it hurts that Catalina has left us… her loss made me aware of just how much of a hindrance we’ve been. No!” she cut another interruption short before he could even open his mouth. “Don’t object, Rafa, we’re not at court. You’ll listen to your mama,” she impressed on him, “Life is precious. Find someone to share it with you.”

That said, she picked up her handbag and started for the hallway.

“Mama!” Barba helplessly called after her.

But Lucia was already shrugging on her coat.

“Thank you for the wonderful evening, Rafa,” she said. “Good night, mi hijo.”

“Good night, Mama,” he murmured and watched her leave.

Their conversation still hung heavily in the air and Barba needed a long moment to shake off his rigor and start clearing the table. He did not want to welcome his guest with used plates after all.

_Will he come?_ Rafael wondered when he had brought everything into the kitchen and looked at the clock above the sink. More than an hour had passed since he had texted with Sonny. _We don't know each other at all. What have I been thinking? Maybe he just pulled my leg._

Doing his best to push such doubts to the back of his mind, Rafael loaded the dishwasher. Just for a moment, he tried to recall in which order he had to push the buttons to start the machine.

"A sign that I should invite guests more often?"

He scoffed.

"Well, I forgive myself for not knowing how to treat you because I use you only thrice a year."

_Should I take it as a bad sign that I'm talking to myself?_

Once the machine was gurgling, Rafael sorted the rest of the table, and because he did not have anything else to do, he laid it for two.

Blinking with astonishment, he took in the result of his work.

_A bit over the top, isn't it?_ Barba thought and removed the candle holder. Returning to the kitchen, he switched on the stove and prepared a pan with slices of the bird and portions of the side dishes in order to heat them back up.

Opening another bottle of wine, he poured himself a glass and sat down to wait.

The hands on the clock only crept forward while Barba watched the empty oven, contemplating if he should put the pan in already. Why would time not pass? Where was Sonny? Did he change his mind?

His stomach already rolled unpleasantly when the doorbell rang. In his haste to get up, Barba almost knocked his glass over. Quickly, he shoved the pan in and rushed to the front door, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

Just as he reached for the handle, he paused, a lump in his throat. Instead of looking through the fish eye first, he opened the door.

The man whom he found on his threshold could not be more different from what Barba had imagined. First, he had to redirect his gaze from slightly below his own height upwards. There, he was met by the most amazing blue eyes and a broad, dimpled smile. What he also did not expect was the honey-colored hair that did not want to fit the man's Italian name.

“Sonny?” Barba managed to ask.

The tall and lean man in front of him grinned, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his black leather jacket and asking,

“Are you going to let me in, or will you just hand me a doggy bag?”

With a start, Barba realized that he was staring. Staring at the younger man who came to him without prejudices, untainted by a work relationship, and unaware of what a challenging character Rafael really was. He was not scared and in Barba’s eyes, that made him even more dangerous for his poor, starved heart.

“Of course,” he shook off his rigor. “Sorry. Come in.”

Stepping aside, he let him pass.

"What did you expect?" Carisi asked as he shrugged off his leather jacket that he wore over a gray knitted shawl sweater with a row of three big buttons down the collar.

All Barba noticed right then were how the knitted wool hugged the lean body and the black denims that showcased Sonny's long legs.

"Huh?"

"When you were gaping at me," Carisi teased. "What was on your mind?"

"That you're not meeting the Italian-American stereotype," Barba said, taking his jacket and putting it on a coat hanger. "Dark eyes, dark hair, and hardly tall enough to meet the police academy's requirements."

Sonny grinned.

"Disappointed?"

Hearing the playful challenge in his question, Barba felt a swarm of butterflies take flight in his stomach. He knew he needed a witty reply, but for a terrifying moment, he just drew a blank before,

"Would you dye your hair if I said yes?" he shot back, secretly wishing he could bury his hands in the thick shock of blond strands.

This time, Sonny chuckled.

"That depends."

"Depends on what?"

"On the grade of your disappointment," Sonny said without missing a beat.

"Mild," Barba stated.

Pulling a face, Sonny shook his head, grousing, "Not going to happen then."

Gesturing his guest to advance into the living room, Barba said, "I'm devastated."

"Too late."

Spotting the laid table, Sonny's eyes grew wide. “Um... that wasn't necessary,” he said. “I mean, I'm coming right from manning the hotline. You make me feel under-dressed.”

“Never mind,” Rafael shrugged, unable to tear his gaze off the younger man. “I just exchanged the plates. Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Yes, please,” Sonny nodded.

Maybe it was an occupational habit that he let his view run around the whole living room, but it made Barba uneasy.

“Take a seat. I'll be right back.”

While Barba went into the kitchen, Sonny continued to explore the living room. Slowly, he strolled around the dining table, over to the sitting group with coffee table, couch, and recliner, and stopped beside the desk, curiously scanning the volumes of law books that filled the shelf right next to it.

Upon reentering the living room with the wine bottle and a coaster for the pan, Barba spotted Carisi leaning forward as he examined the books, and he could not help himself ogling the very nice butt in the tight jeans.

“See anything interesting?” he teased, knowing quite well that he kept only law books there while belletristic resided in his bedroom.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Carisi declared. “May I?”

Too stunned to object, Barba agreed. Grinning madly as if he had won the lottery, Carisi reached for one of the thick books and carefully pulled it from the shelf to carry it to the dining table. Sliding into a seat, Carisi intently opened the cover and scanned the table of contents. His eyes lit up with joy when he spotted what he was searching and flipped to the corresponding page.

Barba just blinked stupidly and absently filled both their glasses with wine. He watched Carisi produce his smart phone and take notes. Somehow, he felt like he would disturb if he addressed him now, so he returned to the kitchen to check on the turkey. Trying a piece, he adjudged it warm enough and took the pan out of the stove, switching it off.

“The turkey is ready,” he declared as he set the pan on he table.

“Huh?” Carisi turned his head. “Oh. Sorry.”

Realizing his faux pas, Carisi blushed an adorable shade of red.

“You actually understand what you're reading?” Barba prodded.

If possible, Carisi's blush even deepened.

“Yeah,” he replied, scooting from his chair to the one opposite Barba where a plate was laid out for him. “Sorry for getting caught up in it. I was so happy to see it. Each time I looked for the volume in the library, someone else had it.”

Reaching for his glass, Carisi declared, “Now I'm all yours.”

The statement almost made Barba choke on the question that lay on his tongue. When he found his voice again, he asked, “Which library?”

“Fordham Law?”

“You're enrolled at their law school?” Barba shot back. “Didn't you say you're with homicide?”

“Well, yes,” Carisi shrugged. “I'm attending night school.”

Now Barba had to laugh.

“You told me all about your family but did not care to mention that you're a law student?” he chuckled. “I thought you realized I was a prosecutor.”

“Well,” Carisi said, smiling sheepishly. “I still couldn't be sure you were _the_ Rafael Barba.” He grinned. “You could've been an accountant or a postman.”

“A postman...”

“Anything, really.” Raising his glass, Carisi declared, “To Rafael's first Thanksgiving turkey.”

“I drink to that,” Barba agreed and clinked their glasses. He could not help to notice how Sonny's eyes lit up when he tasted the wine. “Maybe you should try it before you praise it.”

“It looks and smells delicious,” Carisi stated and helped himself to a helping of turkey and side dishes before Barba could even reach for the servers. Standing from his chair, he then placed a slice of turkey on Barba's plate, asking, “How much do you want? I mean, I guess you've already eaten, right?”

“Yes, that's fine. Thank you.”

Helplessly, Barba watched Carisi serving him with small bits of the side dishes as well, and he could not fail to note the perfect, long-fingered hands that held the serving spoons. Instead of focusing on the present, his mind drifted off to languorous fantasies about those hands on his body.

“Pardon?”

“I said, it's perfect,” Carisi chuckled. “Where have you been with your thoughts?”

Hoping that he did not blush as easily as Carisi, Barba lied, “Fordham Law.”

“Well, it's not Harvard,” Carisi shrugged, “but it's alright. The night school program is great.”

Quirking a brow at the detective, Barba queried, “Harvard?”

“Your Alma Mater.” Seeing the incredulous look on the counselor's face, he snickered, “You have it framed on your wall...”

Now, Barba was pretty certain that he blushed. _Trained detective_ , he reminded himself. _God, what did I let myself into?_

“You're not eating,” Carisi noted.

“Right, I'm not,” Barba confirmed, picking at a piece of turkey with his fork. “How impolite of me.”

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

Though asked rather casually, the question hit too close to home.

“No!” Barba rushed to say. Too fast. He could see it work behind those incredibly blue eyes. Before he could continue making a fool out of himself, Barba stuffed his mouth with food.

For a while, they ate in silence. While Barba mostly took small bites to make it last as he wanted to keep his guest company, Carisi helped himself to another serving.

“You really took my advice to heart,” he smirked. “This turkey is delicious.”

“It was a joint effort,” Barba remarked. “I can't thank you enough for your help. You saved our dinner.”

“You're welcome,” he replied and sipped at his wine.

While Carisi still ate with appetite, Barba was soon finished and found himself watching the younger man. Realizing that he was staring again, Barba stood from his chair.

“I think, I'll get me a glass of scotch,” he declared. “What about you?”

Carisi seemed undecided but agreed in the end. Barba brought two tumblers and a bottle of scotch and sat back down. To be on the safe side, he poured only a finger of scotch into the detective's glass. He could not be certain, but when Carisi was finished with his meal and they sipped at their respective glasses, he got under the impression that it was the first time that Carisi tried such hard liquor.

As if he could read his thoughts, Carisi smiled sheepishly, which made him look so cute and hot that Barba felt his core react to the sight.

_I could get used to that smile,_ he thought, imagining what it might be like to wake next to this handsome young man. _God, I bet he's about ten years my junior. Why should he be interested in me?_

The talk with his mother came to his mind, and suddenly, his relaxed mood evaporated. Being an observant detective, Carisi caught up on it.

“Rafael, what’s wrong?”

After a long moment of contemplative silence, Barba looked up at Carisi but still did not answer.

“C’mon, Counselor. I’m a cop. You can’t fool me that easily.” Still, no explanation was forthcoming. “Please don’t get me wrong,” Carisi tried again, “but when you asked me over to try the turkey, I was under the impression that it was not _just_ about the bird…”

“It wasn’t,” Barba replied on a sigh and left the table, taking his scotch with him. Taking a long swig, he sat on the sofa instead.

For a moment, Carisi was undecided, letting a fingertip run along the rim of his glass. Then he took it and sidled over to the sitting area as well. After hovering between the recliner and the sofa for a moment, he sat down beside Barba.

“What happened in the meantime?” he asked, and drank as well. Thoughtfully, he perched on the edge of the seat, his arms resting on his thighs.

Leaning heavily in the cushions, Barba heaved a sigh.

“Reality caught up on me.”

Twirling his glass in his hands, Carisi thought about that answer.

“And I'm not part of that reality?” he finally asked.

“I didn't say that,” Barba murmured. Tentatively, he lifted his left hand and gently placed it on Sonny's back. Smoothing his thumb over the other man's sweater, he tried to sort his thoughts and emotions. He was pleased, and grateful, to note that Carisi just let him do as he liked. The body under his palm was warm and Barba could sense his breathing motions.

“I'm sorry,” Barba said, letting his hand run up Carisi's back to his shoulder and squeezing lightly. “This is not how I imagined the evening to go.”

Carisi remained silent for so long that Barba already feared he would not speak at all but just get up at some point and leave him behind without any explanation.

“What did you imagine?”

Barba's heart skipped a beat. Carisi sounded resigned and was still toying with the tumbler in his hand.

“Something... more romantic,” Barba admitted. “And then...” Trailing off, he wondered if he really wanted to share his sorrow. If he was being honest with himself, Detective Dominick Carisi Jr. still was a stranger and he was not as outgoing as the younger man beside him. His fingers trailed along Carisi's collar and against the onset of his hair.

“And then?” Carisi asked which was not surprising.

What surprised Barba was the compassionate look that Carisi favored him with as he turned his head to look over his shoulder at him. A part of him yearned for some sort of relief. The way this young man looked at him now, made his resolve to keep private things private waver.

“And then I was reminded of the reason why I hosted this year's Thanksgiving dinner,” Barba heard himself say, gasping with the realization of what he had just done. His hand slid off Carisi's back to meet its counterpart in his lap. Wringing his hands, Barba wracked his mind about how he should get out of this, but suddenly, he blurted out, “My abuela died earlier this year. We always had Thanksgiving dinner with her. Her turkey was renowned...”

There, Barba trailed off, his breath catching in his throat with a suppressed sob, and he felt tears sting his eyes.

“Nana was my mother's mom... so I didn't want her to go through hosting dinner for our family. First Thanksgiving without her...”

This time, it was a real sob that bubbled out of him. Looking down at his hands, he saw them tremble.

“I thought I could pull it off. I think I did. I was being fine, but... What...?”

Suddenly, another pair of hands gently took his own, stilling them. The warm, unexpected touch made his breath catch in his throat. Barba saw the thumbs move as they rubbed soothing circles on the backs of his hands. Slowly lifting his gaze, he looked right into Carisi's blue eyes.

_I didn't even notice he got up. What's he doing there, squatting in front of me? Looking at me like that? What's this got to do with him? I should find an excuse and see him out._

“You miss her,” Carisi murmured.

His tone sent shivers down Barba's spine and he felt his resolve crumble. He _did_ miss Catalina. His beloved nana had left them too early, too suddenly for him to take, and all of a sudden, his self-blame was back about sending her to the retirement home where she did not want to be.

“Oh God,” it bubbled out of him. “I think... we didn't even talk about her. The first Thanksgiving without her and none of us even mentioned her. We forgot about her! Nana! I'm so sorry! Forgive me...”

As his rambling went on, it became hitched by sobs and more and more unintelligible. His whole frame shook with labored breaths and tears were running down his cheeks and into the woolen sweater that he also clawed at by now.

Barba was not aware of it right then, but Carisi had wrapped him up in a tight hug, holding him as he wept. Gently, Carisi rocked him to and fro, rubbing soothing circles on the prosecutor's back.

When his crying finally ceased and his breathing evened out, Barba slowly regained his equilibrium and realized where he was.

_Oh, my God!_

Sensing the wetness of the wool and how his hands curled into the sweater, Barba felt shame rise inside of him. His insides constricted at the painful realization that he came fully undone and found himself in the arms of a virtual stranger, crying like a little boy.

_Forty-five years old and no self-control._

“It's alright,” Carisi's voice whispered close to his ear. “You didn't forget about her. You weren't ready to grieve yet. It's alright now. Just let go.”

Pushing him back, Barba tried to get out of his embrace.

“No! No, I can't!”

Blue eyes bore into his own and palms alighted on his cheeks. Petrified, Barba saw Carisi lean forward. Soft lips touched his forehead when the younger man breathed a kiss on it.

_Ooohhhhh..._

First, Barba felt the fight drain out of him, then, the same soft lips claimed his own in a feather-light kiss. Losing himself in it, Barba melted back into Carisi's embrace. Shivering uncontrollably and crying heartrendingly, he let go of all of his heartbreak.

 

xXx

 

Barba woke early to the last remains of a steamy dream about tangled limbs and sweating bodies that left him wondering where he was. Surprised, he found himself on the sofa and not in bed. Instead of being naked, he still wore the same clothes as the evening before and he was covered by the quilt that he had last seen spread on his bed.

Dream made room for memory and Barba looked around in search of Carisi who was nowhere to be seen.

“Sonny?”

Maybe he was in the bathroom. Barba could not hear anything, but that did not mean that he was not there.

_Did he leave?_

It was still dark, at least as dark as it would ever get in New York City. While Barba knew that it was likely that the detective had left, a part of him wished that he was still there.

Pushing the quilt back, he stood up and walked over to the bathroom. Opening the door, he found the room empty. His heart fell.

_What did I expect? I mean, I've been a mess last night. He's seen me at my worst. Of course, he's run as fast as he could._

Now that he already was in the bathroom, he could also relieve himself. Looking at the clock, he decided to stay up. He washed his hands and padded over to the kitchen in order to prepare the coffee machine to let it brew while he was showering and getting dressed. On the kitchen counter, Barba discovered his thermos bottle and a folded page leaning against it.

Frowning, he picked up the piece of paper and unfolded it to read:

 

_Good morning, Counselor_

_Sorry for just leaving, but I got called in. Thank you very much for the invitation and the turkey. You did brilliantly (you should thank your teacher occasionally ;-) )._

_I made myself coffee. You'll find more in your thermos. I got a feeling you might appreciate it._

_Take care!_

_Sonny_

 

_PS: We could text. Otherwise... I'll be at Forlini's tonight._

_PPS: I'm glad I could help._

 

Barba's first reflex was to crumple the note up and toss it into the bin. That reflex probably was due to the idea of framing the short letter to keep it. His heart ached as soon as he thought of Carisi.

Of course, he blamed himself.

Of course, he did not text that day.

Of course, he chickened out on meeting Carisi at Forlini's.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Of course, Barba could not forget Carisi.

And what did a resourceful assistant district attorney do when he could not forget someone? He vetted him and watched from a distance, soon figuring out that homicide was not where Detective Dominick Carisi Jr. intended to stay forever. He had long since requested a transfer to Special Victims Unit, but there was no opening for a junior detective.

_Plus, he's studying law. I never asked him, but maybe he wants to join the DA's office one day. As he's a cop, I guess he'll rather be a prosecutor than a defense attorney._

Occasionally, Barba thought back to Thanksgiving, each time marveling at how the nice detective had saved his turkey. In hindsight, with his mother's words in mind, he berated himself for not being there for his guests. Though he never noticed anything that night, his aunts and cousins likely were put out by his lack of attention. So Barba was glad that Lucia kept them entertained while he was in the kitchen, on the phone.

_With Sonny._

It still was a miracle to him. The ease with which they conversed on the phone had already been stunning, but that they seemed to connect in person as well, left Barba amazed as well as scared. Admittedly, he had not done much about it but stammer around. When he had managed to fire off a snark, Carisi just took it in stride.

_As if he wasn't fazed at all._

Somehow, his carefully built barriers did not seem to exist for Sonny Carisi, a fact that fascinated Barba as much as it unsettled him. If there was one thing he did not believe in, it was love at first sight. Alright, maybe two things, the second being soul mates.

Still, Barba could not shake off the memories and what-ifs of Thanksgiving night.

Judging by the fantasies that his mind conjured more and more often, it probably was for the better that he went cold turkey on meeting a certain junior detective.

Early the next year, Barba could still not forget the young man who had saved his Thanksgiving turkey. Spotting his name on the witness list of one of the other ADA’s cases, his stomach fluttered at the possibility of running into Carisi at court. Realizing that he would not be in session himself at the scheduled time of the murder trial, Barba decided to join the audience. He managed to slip in unnoticed by the detective and watched the session proceed with growing interest. Then Carisi was called to the stand. His statement likely turned out to be detailed and professional, but Barba would not notice, because he got lost in his voice, his view glued to his lips and the brilliantly shining blue eyes.

_Just when and how did he get the idea to grow a mustache? It's hideous!_

Barba could tell the second when Carisi discovered his presence. There was a slight faltering in his sentence and one of his eyebrows quirked.

Barba made a hasty retreat. Arriving back at his office, he received a text message. Checking on it, he saw that it was from Carisi. Panicked, he deleted it without reading.

An hour later, he beat himself up over deleting the text message, but he could not bring himself to sending one himself.

By the end of April, Barba heard about Carisi being transferred to Staten Island SVU. Fleetingly, he thought, that the young detective would not stick out there due to his accent right away. Unfortunately, Staten Island SVU would not allow them to cross paths any time soon, which was just as well as he dreaded another meeting as much as he yearned for it.

In July, Barba learned that Carisi now worked with Brooklyn SVU.

When Liv told him that she had to request a replacement for Detective Amaro, Barba had to make a decision. Before he could think better of it, he placed a call in order to pull some strings.

 

xXx

 

It was a Wednesday, August 6, when Lieutenant Benson asked Barba to accompany her to the Attica Correctional Facility in order to meet with Tino Aguilar. She wanted to take a shot at interrogating him, implying there might be a deal in for him if he talked. Barba did not think it would be going to work, but it was still worth a try.

Unfortunately, he was right.

On their way back to Manhattan, Olivia was driving her squad car, Barba let his mind wander with the view of the cityscape as it flew by. It was set on a calm dinner at his current favorite place and maybe a weekend off for a change. He kept daydreaming until Olivia broke the silence.

“Sometimes, I can't help but wonder what the higher-ups are thinking,” she sighed.

“Huh?”

“You know that I requested a stand-in for Amaro, right?” When he answered with an affirmative hum, she went on, “So today, that guy stood in our squad room. I really thought he must be mistaken, but he actually was there for the job.”

“Why did you think he must be mistaken?” Barba queried dutifully.

“Because I requested an experienced, emphatic detective,” she scoffed, “and not a rookie who's still wet behind his ears.”

Scowling, he attempted to make her elaborate, “How bad can he be?”

“Seriously? He's so green that it hurts.”

“And what's the name of that unfortunate soul?” he queried, secretly convinced that it must be somebody else than he assumed.

“Detective Dominick Carisi Jr.,” she said. “In this case, the Jr. standing in for _junior detective_. He's got his detective's shield only about a year ago. I don't know what to do with him.”

A chill ran down Barba's spine at the realization that he might have made a mistake.

“Didn't you tell me that SVU is an all-volunteer squad?” he asked. “Maybe there wasn't any other detective available.”

“Usually, it is,” Benson confirmed. “As a temporary replacement, they could have sent anyone, though.” She sighed. “They _did_ send anyone. I wouldn't mind his inexperience as much if Amaro was there, but Carisi is expected to _replace_ him! How's that supposed to work out? What if we won't get Amaro back?” Shaking her head, she sighed again. “I have a feeling as if we're going to be stuck with Carisi instead.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, apparently, he is a volunteer,” Benson explained. “He's been with three other SVU squads already... in only three months.”

Thoughtfully, Barba paused with his reply.

“To me, that sounds as if he's dedicated but in need of the right teacher,” he finally said.

At that, Benson laughed, quipping sarcastically, “Maybe you should adopt him.”

“Seriously, Liv,” he said, “I couldn't think of any better squad. You _are_ understaffed, aren't you?”

“Yeah.”

“Then teach him,” Barba suggested. “And when Amaro comes back... maybe the Brass let's you keep Carisi in addition.”

Benson groaned.

“I'm not sure if that's a good idea.”

Her defiance made him smile.

“You won't find out if you don't give him a chance,” Barba stated. “I know you, Liv. You won't rest until Amaro is reinstated. Until then... keep your rookie busy, show him the ropes. Maybe he'll surprise you.”

“Who the hell are you and what have you done with good old brash Barba?” she laughed with incredulity at his unusual way of taking side with the detective. “I mean, you're defending him? You don't even know the guy.”

“You don't know him either,” Barba shrugged. “That's all I'm saying.”

Huffing with frustration, Benson decided to end this discussion.

 

xXx

 

Later that day, Barba stopped by at the precinct. Entering the squad's bullpen, he walked straight past the desks to Benson's sanctum, knocked, and went inside before any of the detectives could address him. As he closed the door behind him, he thought he could feel a gaze pierce his back. A gaze out of stunningly blue eyes.

“Rafael,” Benson greeted with surprise.

“Hey, Liv,” he replied, sinking into one of the chairs in front of her desk. “How are things going with the case?”

“We're making progress...”

“That's good.”

“Yeah, but that's not why you're here, isn't it?” she challenged.

“Guilty as charged,” he chuckled. “So, that's the newbie?” Barba asked without turning to the squad room.

“Yeah, that's him,” Benson sighed. “At least he seems determined. He's asked me if he could write down overtime, going through cold cases.”

“Well, that's a plus then?”

“For now.” She smiled. “Is there anything I can do for you or did you just want to check out our new guy?”

“Care to join me for a drink?”

“Not tonight,” she sighed. “I'm drowning in paperwork.”

“You could introduce us.”

“That, I could do,” she agreed and stood to accompany him out of her office. In the squad room, she hollered, “Carisi?”

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

“Come over for a second.”

Diligently, Carisi got up from his chair and crossed over to Benson and Barba.

“Barba,” Benson began, “this is our new detective, Dominick Carisi Jr.”

Extending his hand toward the prosecutor, Carisi added, “Call me Sonny.” That he could not find any hint of recognition in the other man's eyes, confused him. Still, he could not help the mad grin that cracked his features, and he also did not care that Benson rolled her eyes, firmly keeping his gaze on the attorney as they shook hands.

“Carisi,” the lieutenant went on, “This is Rafael Barba, our ADA.”

“It's an honor to meet you, Counselor,” Carisi said, favoring Barba with a broad, dimpled grin, that made the lawyer's heart stutter. “I'm looking forward to working with you. With the whole squad, of course,” he turned to Benson, only releasing the attorney's hand when he felt him pull on it slightly. His cheeks colored with embarrassment.

A short, unexplained moment of silence followed.

“Well, I need to get going,” Barba declared. “Good night, Liv. Detective.”

Walking to the elevator, Barba wondered if this, whatever this was, would work out in the end.

 

xXx

 

Coming home late that night after dinner and a couple of drinks at a very nice Italian restaurant that he had recently discovered, Barba did not expect to find a visitor waiting for him. Despite the late hour and the poor weather, Carisi stood waiting, the collar of his raincoat turned up against the breeze and light drizzle. Spotting the counselor alight from his Uber, he pushed himself off the wall he was leaning against.

“Counselor.”

“Detective.”

Keeping his voice all business was Barba's sole defense against the ridiculous attraction that he felt at the sight of the ruffled and drenched detective.

Quirking a brow, Carisi came back, “Sonny.”

Eyeing the detective with caution, something that currently required a lot of willpower, Barba queried, “What are you doing here?”

All of a sudden, the shoes he wore became much more interesting for Carisi than the person he was talking with. Awkwardly, he shifted from one foot to the other and back, asking,

“Can we talk?”

Surprised and a bit annoyed, Barba asked back, “Now?”

Carisi nodded.

“When if not now?” he returned, “We're going to work together after all.” Seeing Barba hesitate, he relented, knowing that it probably was not the best idea to invite himself into the counselor's apartment, “Not upstairs, though. We could go for... coffee or something?”

Barba groaned. He could see that the younger man was uncomfortable, likely scared of his own courage, and decided to take pity on him. Stepping up to the front door of his apartment building, he said, “Come.”

Sighing with relief, Carisi followed him. When he entered Barba's apartment this time, he did not feel as much at ease as way back when he came to have a piece of turkey. There was a tension between them that almost robbed him of his breath.

“So... what do you want to talk about, Detective?”

Carisi felt his heart sink at the unforgiving tone in Barba's voice. This was not how he had imagined their conversation to go.

“Actually, I was hoping you could answer that question, Rafael.”

The detective flinched at seeing the indignant look that crossed the counselor's features, finally realizing that Barba indeed wanted to keep their professional distance.

“ _You_ came to see _me,”_ Barba sternly said. _“You_ asked if we could talk.”

“And _you_ were the one who dropped me in it,” Carisi shot back, doing his best to try and read his opposite and failing. For months, he had tried to figure out what he had done wrong. Now was the time to ask. Now or never. “I'm sorry that I left like I did. I didn't wake you when I was called in because you were exhausted!” His voice rose with agitation as he tried to explain himself. “If you expected something entirely else from me, then know that I don't take advantage of people like that.”

“What do you mean?” Barba asked with angry confusion.

“You weren't able to consent,” Carisi shot back, “and that's the last I'll say about that.”

Stunned, Barba could just stare at the detective. The idea of having heated comfort sex with Carisi was appealing, but it had not even crossed his mind. So the thought that Carisi might have read exactly that into their exchange never crossed his mind either.

“Rafael...” Carisi begged and was relieved to see a more open expression on the lawyer's face. “I don't know what that Thanksgiving evening was meant to be. All I know is that it didn't turn out as either of us expected.” He paused in order to give Barba a chance to comment. When he remained silent, Carisi went on, “I was being honest in my letter. Do you think I would've written it if I didn't want to see you again?”

Too choked up to speak, Barba just stood and watched Carisi, trying not to tremble with the tension.

“I was waiting,” Carisi told him, sounding defeated. “I hoped that you would text. Or show up at Forlini's. Or call. Anything but silence.” He scoffed. Rubbing his face, he tried to bring his battling emotions under control. “Fuck, I'm still waiting.”

Fed up with the silence, Carisi made a throwing gesture and stalked towards the hall.

“Don't!”

Frozen in his tracks by the desperation in that single word, Carisi listened. From behind, he heard Barba's heavy breathing. As much as he wanted to be stopped by him, he knew he just should not listen.

“Don't go.”

The words left Barba on a sigh. A sound that made Carisi turn hesitantly back around.

“Why should I stay?” he sadly asked.

Just for a moment, Barba allowed himself to close his eyes. He was pretty certain that Carisi had to be able to see his hands ball to fists, see him tremble, and hear his heavy breaths. He wanted to be honest with him and yet found himself incapable to. _Man up and say it!_ his inner voice yelled at him. _Stop that self-sabotaging!_

“I don't want you to go.”

Even Barba himself had to strain his ears to understand what he said.

“Sorry, what?”

“I...” he almost choked on the words, struggling, and finally, they shot out of him, “I don't want you to go.”

It was as if someone had cut the strings of a puppet. Barba saw Carisi deflate and already feared that he would drop where he stood, when he slowly approached and pulled out a chair at the dining table to sink down on it.

Barba also felt his tension fall off of him. In order to have something to do, he said, “Give me your coat. I'll hang it up.”

Wordlessly, Carisi did as he was told and Barba went to hang it on the coat rack in the hall, shrugging out of his own coat as well. On his way back, he detoured to the kitchen to fetch glasses and two bottles, water and scotch. As he sat at the head of the table, he set everything down, and looked questioningly at his unexpected guest.

“I should choose water,” Carisi said, “but I need a drink.”

Smiling at that statement, Barba poured each of them two fingers of scotch. They clinked glasses and drank a first sip.

“I'd like to ask you something,” Carisi then stated, looking at Barba sheepishly. “It's something touchy, so I didn't want to come straight to the point.”

“What is it?” Barba asked, more curious than angry.

“Did you have your hands in the pie of my transfer to Manhattan SVU?”

Barba almost undrank his scotch.

“You know, seeing the color drain from your face, I like to think you did,” Carisi teased. “Why are you so shocked? You think it was a mistake?”

“I'm shocked that you know.”

“I do now,” Carisi chuckled at Barba's unintentional confession.

Barba scoffed

“But seriously,” Carisi went on, “Having been in so many SVUs in so little time, I was pretty certain that I lost any chance at being transferred there. It's where I wanted to be from the start, you know?”

Sipping at his scotch, Barba just quirked a brow and let him talk.

“Staten Island was temporary from the start,” Carisi explained. “I was filling in for an injured colleague. I expected to go back to homicide after that stint, but then I was sent to Brooklyn SVU. That was disaster.” Taking a swig of scotch, he coughed. “Whoa! This needs getting used to!”

Barba could not help a chuckle.

“Anyway,” Carisi shrugged, “There was bad chemistry between the squad and me. Working conditions didn't make it any better. The squad rooms were a bunch of offices in the cellar, stuffed with dated tech, boxes filled with unsolved cases, and dedicated detectives who are disillusioned by circumstances.” He shook his head with resignation. “It's hard to imagine the difference.”

“It's not,” Barba replied with a resigned sigh, leaning back in his chair. “Brooklyn is _not_ Manhattan. The squad here is prestigious. That's why it's better equipped... and constantly watched. Everyone, in every squad, is doing what they can,” he stated on a tired exhale. “I know Captain Hawthorn. I tried a couple of SVU's cases back when I was in Brooklyn.”

To Barba's surprise, Carisi grinned lopsidedly at that statement.

“Actually, that's how you came to my attention,” Carisi told him, seeming embarrassed. “I was still in the Bronx then, but occasionally followed SVU cases when one hit the news. I saw a press conference... and thought that it was an interesting case. I went to court one day and... there you were.” _In all your glory_ , Carisi thought and just managed to prevent himself from saying it aloud. In order to distract himself from regions more south, he looked up at the wave of Barba's brown hair that he liked so much. What he liked even more were his intense green eyes that could be so expressive. His whole features were. It was a joy to watch him. “Watching you prosecute the case was my tipping point. I applied at Fordham... During my first year, you started in Manhattan.”

Barba's jaw dropped with the realization that Carisi had been following his career.

“You mean to say that you enrolled at law school because of me?”

“Not quite,” Carisi smirked, “I was thinking about it for quite some time already, but witnessing you fight at court made me go for it.”

“Wow.”

Hearing the usually so eloquent man utter a plain _wow_ made Carisi grin, “Man on a mission.” For a moment, he marveled at the light blush that colored Barba's cheeks, but then the attorney's expression changed to one of mischief,

“Is it possible that you're suffering from a case of hero-worship?” Barba prodded.

At once, the heat of embarrassment reddened Carisi's features.

“Probably,” he replied sheepishly. “A mild one.”

Being treated to one of those adorable, dimpled smiles, it took Barba's whole resolve not to look at the detective like a love-struck teenager. _This infatuation becomes increasingly annoying!_ Carisi's next statement, though, rekindled his panic.

“Maybe, not in the near future, but.... maybe I could shadow you?” Noting his shocked expression, Carisi added, “As preparation for my bar exam, I mean. I'd feel honored.”

Barba was pretty certain that his features derailed.  _Not very professional, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Not very flattering in any way._

“But that's way down the road,” Carisi shrugged it off himself. “My point now is, Counselor... Manhattan SVU, I don't want to screw it up.”

Barba was sure that Carisi used his title with full intent this time. _Yes. He's serious about it._

“In that case, you shouldn't try to annoy the lieutenant on your first day.”

“Well, that wasn't my intention.”

Scoffing, Barba returned, “If she believed it was, you'd be assigned to Bronx SVU already.”

“I'm not sure what I did wrong,” Carisi admitted. “When I heard about the shooting, I thought that coming in a day early could only prove my dedication. Somehow, though, I got a feeling as if that was my first of a whole row of mistakes.” With exasperation, he sighed, “All I want is to do good.”

“You want to prove yourself,” Barba summed him up measuredly.

Carisi nodded.

“Well, I can't speak for Lieutenant Benson,” Barba started, though he had a good idea of what she was thinking, “but judging by our introduction earlier today, you might want to curb your enthusiasm.”

“Oh?”

“To seasoned cops like them,” Barba impressed, “you might come across as a loudmouth.”

“Oh...”

Watching the detective worry his bottom lip, apparently thinking hard about how the day went and what his role in it was, Barba almost felt pity for him. When Carisi rose his head again to look at him, his eyes were full of misery.

“I _am_ aware that I can't start out working spectacular cases,” Carisi murmured, resigned. “At homicide, they let me go to crime scenes, but then, I mostly did paperwork and legwork. I knew that's my lot. I still have to learn, I _know_ that. I just thought that, after a year, it would be great to actually make progress.”

“You want to be taken serious?” Barba prodded. Even before the detective reacted with a nod, he could see he hit the nail's head by the way his eyes lit up.

“Well, in that case...” Barba scoffed, “stop putting your foot in your mouth. Go with the flow. Observe and absorb. Once Benson knows she can rely on you, you'll get your chance.”

Eyeing the detective intently, he then remarked waspishly, “Aside from that... if you want to be a professional, you should try and _look_ like a professional.”

Eyes widening and throwing his arms up helplessly, Carisi complained, “That's what I'm trying!”

“That starts with the way you dress yourself,” Barba declared snidely.

Looking down at himself, gesturing at his clothes in general, Carisi stated, “I'm wearing a suit.”

Giving him a look of pure disdain, Barba ordered, “Get up.”

Gesturing him to step away from the table, Barba eyed him critically. With another gesture, he ordered Carisi to turn around and the detective complied. Sipping at his scotch while he watched, Barba let out a long suffering groan. In comparison with the sweater and denims that he still vividly recalled, this outfit did nothing for Carisi's appearance. Barba could not help but think that he would not have spared a second look at him, had he worn this on their first meeting.

“If that's a suit, I'm Anna Wintour.”

Despite the seriousness of the allusion, the comparison made Carisi laugh. Catching his breath again, he then scoffed,

“Well, not everyone can afford to dress in suits at two grand each.”

“That's not my point,” Barba shot back without denying the implication. “One can find fitting wardrobe without spending a fortune. Come.”

Standing from his chair, the counselor went to his bedroom without waiting if the detective actually trailed behind. Advancing into his walk-in closet, Barba stepped up to one of the racks and chose a plain, anthracite waistcoat. Only then, he looked around in search of Carisi.

“Come in!” he commanded, emphasizing with a gesture. Indicating the tall stand up mirror to his right, he suggested, “Take a look.”

Obediently, Carisi looked at his reflection, thinking that he looked like always, and regretting that he could not manage to look like he intended to.

“Here,” Barba said, gripping the suit jacket from behind and gathering the fabric a bit. “Even if you can't find a suit that fits exactly, it's no big investment to go to an alteration service. Your suit is your second skin. You should treat it as such. Just look at the effect a small correction makes.”

Carisi did not quite see it yet, but he basked in the endeavor the prosecutor made on his behalf.

Stepping up in front of Carisi, Barba hung the waistcoat on the mirror. Then he reached up to undo the detective's tie. When he slid it out from beneath Carisi's collar, the detective teased,

“Is this an attempt to get me out of my clothes?”

“Wipe that smirk off your face,” Barba groused. “This is serious.”

Carisi could not help himself. He kept grinning while Barba removed his jacket and held the waistcoat out for him to put it on. Then he helped him back into his suit jacket and went to open a drawer.

The detective's smirk faded as he gaped at the five rows of neckties, sorted by color, that lay neatly folded inside. Barba picked one and returned to Carisi, putting it on his neck and binding it.

“So...” Barba said, stepping around Carisi and gathering waistcoat and jacket to adjust the shape a little. “What about now?”

Admittedly, Carisi had mostly watched in the mirror how the prosecutor fussed over him, but when he now looked at himself, he did indeed see the difference it made. He choked at the realization that this was what he had wanted to achieve. With his uniform, he never had any problem after all. It was when he started working in plain clothes that he began to struggle with his attire.

“See?” Barba said from behind, looking over his shoulder at the mirror. “You just need to pay attention to the cut when you go to buy your next suit. Maybe you should try a three piece suit then. It's looking good on you.”

Carisi just could nod in response. Currently, his gaze was captured by the tie that managed to highlight the combination. He looked like a new person.

“You could also try and combine this suit with a single waistcoat if you don't want to buy a whole ensemble in the near future. But take the jacket to being altered, okay?”

Carisi could just keep watching him in the mirror as he helped him out of jacket and waistcoat, putting the latter back on its hanger.

As Barba returned with Carisi's tie, he looked him over and commented, "The slacks are a much better fit."

Putting his jacket back on, Carisi blushed, admitting, “It's another size.”

“It's what?” Barba blurted out.

“Another size,” Carisi relayed sheepishly. “The matching suit jacket wasn't wide enough for my shoulders.”

“Okay...” Barba drawled, “that explains some things. Next time, try another cut altogether.”

“Maybe you should accompany me,” Carisi suggested.

“Pardon?”

“To lend me your eye and expertise,” Carisi clarified. Seeing the counselor's indignant expression, he could not help but tease, “Mr. Wintour.”

Glowering first at Carisi, then at the tie in his hand and back at the one on the detective's neck, he gruffly declared, “Keep the tie.” And he stuffed the other one into his trouser pocket.

“Th-thanks,” Carisi stammered, overwhelmed by the unexpected gift. _Who knows? Maybe that tie costs half as much as my whole suit_. “But what about my tie?”

“What tie?” Barba snarked with a touch of wry amusement. “That better cleaning rag? Don't worry, I'll dispose of it for you.”

“Dis---pose...?”

“Not much else you can do with it,” Barba scoffed, ushering Carisi out of the closet.

The detective still paused in the door until the counselor switched off the light, marveling at the diversity of Barba's wardrobe. When Barba stepped out, he ran straight into the tall detective.

Looking up at Carisi, Barba saw himself confronted by an appraising look that should have annoyed him but did the exact opposite. Taking him by the shoulders, Barba turned Carisi around and steered him out of his bedroom. Closing the door behind him, he stated dryly,

“Oh, and by the way... A different hairstyle couldn't hurt either.”

“Okay,” Carisi muttered.

By now, he felt somewhat bereft. Judging by the counselor's gruff tone, he began to question his intentions. Maybe he was right in doing so. They hardly were more than strangers after all.

“I'll do my best to turn your advice into practice,” he said. “I mean, you're right,” he gestured at himself, “This is... not going unclad. And you...” he indicated Barba's whole appearance, “You're gorgeous.”

The moment it slipped off his tongue, Carisi could have slapped himself.

“Gorgeous?” Barba scoffed.

“Y-yeah,” Carisi nodded, trying for his previous nonchalance. “Drop-dead gorgeous. The whole package.”

“Hardly,” Barba warded off the compliment. “You on the other hand... Well, if it wasn't for that mustache.”

This made Carisi frown.

“What's wrong with it?”

“Seriously?” Barba's eyes went wide. “It's hideous!”

Blushing flaming red, Carisi fought for his dignity, “It's manly.”

“It looks as if one of those furry caterpillars landed on your upper lip,” Barba snarked. “And that hair...” Reaching up reflexively in order to emphasize what he meant, he threaded his fingers in blonde strands.

Both men froze.

Their gazes locked.

Silence.

Then...

“Thank you,” Carisi rasped. “For giving me advice.”

“You're welcome,” Barba muttered, not letting go because his touch-starved fingers took delight in the soft strands. “What about Friday afternoon? Wardrobe training. I might be able to get off an hour earlier.”

“Sounds like a deal,” Carisi replied hoarsely. Out of a burst of brazenness, he leaned forward and breathed a kiss on Barba's cheek.

For a second, Barba stared at him as if he had lost his mind.

Feeling the grip on his hair tighten, Carisi had no chance to react when he was pulled forward into a crushing kiss. An arm wrapped around his waist, holding him tight. Putting his arms around Barba in return, he held him even closer, allowing him no leeway.

Gasping for breath, Barba moaned, “That mustache still is awful.”

“Shut up,” Carisi replied, silencing him with another kiss. He could feel Barba reach for his tie again. Quickly, it came off and the buttons on his jacket and shirt opened. Now, Barba's hands were on him, searing his skin.

“You're hot, Sonny,” Barba snarled against Carisi's lips, pulling the shirt out of his slacks. Then he reached for the belt buckle.

“So are you,” the detective replied, panting with the counselor's ministrations.

Barba paused, leaning back, his hands still on Carisi's hips.

“What?”

“Hot,” Carisi repeated, letting his fingers thread through Barba's hair, grasping it on the back of his scalp to bend his head back. “You are gorgeous.” Diving in to press kisses on Barba's exposed throat, he murmured against his skin, “You're absolutely beautiful, especially at court.”

“You must mistake me for somebody else,” Barba chuckled.

Grasping one butt cheek while still holding his hair, Carisi rasped close to his ear, “Sexy.”

Giving in to the younger man, Barba maneuvered them back toward the bedroom. Kissing and groping at each other, they all but tumbled through the door that fell closed behind them.

 

xXx

 

This year's Thanksgiving saw a much more relaxed Rafael Barba. While peeling and chopping carrots, he still wore casual clothes, denims and a light, burgundy v-neck sweater. Pausing in his work, Rafael took a sip of red wine. His gaze was distracted to the bird carcass that already lay in the roasting pan. A wistful smile cracked his features as he watched long-fingered hands prepare it for cooking.

“Jealous?”

“Huh?” Barba looked up at the huge grin that hovered above the bird.

“I asked if you're jealous,” Sonny teased lightly.

“Maybe a little,” Rafael admitted. “But most of all I'm glad that I have my own personal chef preparing our Thanksgiving turkey.”

Sonny laughed. “Yeah, you should be glad. Think of all the poor souls who'll have to make do because I'm not on the Butterball hotline.”

“No pity for them,” Rafael huffed, standing and crossing over to Sonny to wrap his arms around him from behind. “I'm already dreading the phone ringing because you're on call.”

“Well, at least I don't have to be at the precinct,” Sonny shrugged. “In that case, you'd have to cook the turkey.”

“Please, not again!” Rafael groaned. “Thank God for small favors.”

“I don't know what you mean,” Sonny snickered, “Last year's turkey was perfect.”

“Because I had you talking me through cooking it,” Rafael groused. “If you were out on a case, I could hardly keep you on the phone.”

“Hardly, yeah,” Sonny agreed, binding the turkey's drumsticks. “Do you think you can keep your hands to yourself until the bird's in the oven?”

Making an indignant sound deep in his throat, Rafael let go of his lover.

“Better yet,” Sonny smirked, “finish those carrots.”

“Aye, Sir,” Rafael mock saluted and returned to his side of the kitchen table.

Furtively watching his partner while finishing up the bird, Sonny innocently asked, “Do you need a spoonful of sugar?”

Rafael looked accordingly confused, “Beg your pardon?”

“Because...” Sonny drawled, breaking into song with a challenging grin, “Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, the medicine...”

Ducking a flying piece of carrot, he snapped his mouth shut, but could not help his chuckles.

“I hate you,” Rafael grunted.

Still grinning, Sonny countered, “No, you love me.”

Though he growled menacingly, Rafael's features softened, “Yes, I do.” Thoroughly distracted from the carrots, he kept watching Sonny adding the finishing touches to the turkey and shoving it into the oven. “It's still a miracle to me,” he murmured softly.

“What is?” Sonny asked distractedly, picking up a paring knife to help with the vegetables.

“That you love me.”

A stunned look at his counselor was enough for Sonny to find that he meant what he said.

“Sometimes, you're just plain stupid,” he shushed, breathing a kiss on Rafael's cheek before sitting down next to him. Feeling his partner's gaze on him, he looked back up at him. “What?”

“I'm serious,” Rafael said, “I'm an old, sarcastic bastard with a penchant for scotch and impossible working hours.”

Huffing, Sonny put knife and carrot back on the table, resting his hands on them. Cocking his head toward the exit, he dead-seriously queried,

“You'd rather have me walking out that door?”

Feeling all color draining from his face, Rafael choked.

“Didn't think so,” Sonny scoffed, hardly able to prevent a small grin to crack his features. “You'd better man up, Counselor,” he advised sternly, “because, for better or worse, you won't get rid of me.”

Hearing the affection through the rough tone, Rafael smiled at him lovingly. Getting rid of Sonny? That was the last thing he wanted.

“We don't have to do the sides right away, do we?” he asked innocently.

“Not everything,” Sonny agreed. “Why?”

“Because I'd have an idea,” Rafael murmured seductively, “how to spend the time until basking the turkey...”

Feeling his lover's toes caress his calf, Sonny smirked at the carrots. They could wait.

 

xXx

 

About four hours later, standing in front of the mirror, Sonny eyed his attire critically. The navy blue three-piece suit he wore was new. So were the black leather shoes and even the crisp white dress shirt. Only the necktie, an irregularly striped one in navy blue, turquoise, white and silver, was borrowed.

_Not such a big deal, actually,_ Sonny thought, glancing aside where Rafael was just binding his own tie.

Looking at his reflection again, he kept trying to find any fault with his attire.

“You're looking good enough to eat,” Rafael murmured close to his ear and nipped with his lips at Sonny's earlobe. “Delectable.”

“Too bad that dessert will be served at the end of the dinner,” Sonny snickered and was saved by the bell.

Groaning, Rafael stepped away from him and smoothed out his tie before he went to open the door. Taking the umpteenth deep breath, Sonny followed him into the living room. When Rafael and Lucia came in, he greeted his boyfriend's mother with a wide, friendly smile that threatened to falter when he met her inquisitive look.

“Mrs. Barba,” he said, extending his hand that she swiftly took. “Dominick Carisi Jr. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“We'll see about the pleasure, Detective,” she replied, keeping hold of his hand while she eyed him intently.

“I'd love to stay for interrogation, Ma'am,” Sonny shot back, glancing at his hand that still stuck in a surprisingly firm grasp, “but I need to check on the turkey. I'll be right back.”

Lucia released him and he went on to the kitchen. The turkey was ready to be taken out of the oven. It would have to rest a moment before it could be carved. So Sonny switched the stove off and put the pan with the bird on the kitchen counter. Checking on the side dishes, he noted that everything was ready and just waiting to be served.

Taking a bottle of red wine with him, Sonny returned to the living room, asking, “Did Rafael already offer you something to drink?”

“Yeah, he did,” Rafael replied in his mother's stead.

“No reason to snarl at me,” Sonny lightly came back, pulling a chair out for himself and sitting down. “So...” he turned to Lucia, “fire away.”

“How's the turkey?” Rafael asked.

“Resting and waiting for you to carve him,” Sonny shot back without taking his gaze off Lucia.

Rafael scoffed.

“Mama...”

“Go, check on the turkey,” Lucia cut her son short, still looking at Sonny.

Ready to object, Rafael steeled himself, but before he could even open his mouth, Lucia shot a glare at him. Swallowing his comment, he went to the kitchen.

“He probably wanted to warn you,” Sonny said, pouring himself a glass of the wine that Rafael had opened for Lucia.

“Does he have reason to?” she queried.

“I don't know, Mrs. Barba,” he replied, tongue in cheek, “Are you dangerous?”

At his comment, she quirked a brow in a way that was all too familiar for Sonny, so typical Barba. For a long moment, she silently watched him and Sonny watched back. He was not bothered by it. As a cop, he knew how to handle an interrogation.

“Tell me something, Dominick,” Lucia demanded. “Why bother with this charade? Why not break up now, before you get fed up with Rafael?”

This was a question that he had not expected. Favoring her with his most intimidating detective's stare, he replied, “I don't understand the question, Ma'am.”

“Well, as such an attractive, apparently well-mannered and decent young man, you certainly have better offers than a difficult, sarcastic attorney who is too stubborn to change even if his life depended on it,” Lucia told him earnestly. Keeping her eyes on him, she sipped at her wine.

Standing from his chair, Sonny clenched his hands with anger.

“I'm trying not to take offense on Rafael's behalf,” he told her with more calm than he felt, “If you came to insult our relationship on Thanksgiving of all days, then you better should go. I love Rafael, and I won't allow anyone to talk about him like this, not even his mother.”

Smiling knowingly, Lucia stood as well, crossing the short distance to the detective.

“Call me Lucia, Son,” she offered, giving his upper arm a light squeeze. Adding on a more serious note, she said, “Don't you dare hurting Rafael, or you'll see me from my unpleasant side.”

She walked on toward the kitchen.

“You mean to say this was your pleasant side?”

Sonny's challenge made her pause and look at him over her shoulder.

“Touché,” she smirked. “I think we'll get along well, Dominick.”

“Call me Sonny,” he offered.

“Sonny.”

Giving him a warm smile, she detoured because the door bell rang. Sonny heard her welcome their other family members. A moment later, Lucia led them into the living room.

“Gente, this is Sonny,” she introduced him. “Be nice to him, he's Rafael's novio.”

“Mama!” Rafael cut in indignantly. Sonny was not his fiance... not yet anyway.

_Judging by his murderous look, she can be glad that he's carrying the turkey,_ Sonny thought.

“He's also a cop,” she went on, “a detective, so think twice about picking on Rafael as well. Can I help with the dishes, Sonny?”

Leaving Rafael with his aunts and cousins, she ushered Sonny to the kitchen.

“You don't want to witness them prodding him for information,” she chirped, cornering him at the kitchen counter and looking him over approvingly. “Yes, I always knew my Rafael has good taste. You're a fine specimen of a man. Well, you must be in shape, being a cop. Is that his tie?”

“Yes, Ma'am,” he replied reflexively.

“Lucia,” she corrected.

“Yes, Lucia, that's Rafael's tie,” Sonny confirmed.

She smirked. “You should feel honored. He never lets anyone touch them, least of all wear one.”

Eyeing her intently, he tried to read between her lines. She still stared at him and her scrutiny began to make him uneasy.

“Let's serve dinner,” she suddenly declared with a mischievous joy. “Before Rafa cries for help.”

Together, they carried the side dishes out to the dining table. Once everything was served, Rafael spoke a few words, they said a prayer, and began to eat.

During the whole dinner, Sonny felt watched by Lucia. He was pretty certain that Rafael felt the same, but his counselor seemed to just ignore her. Aside from that, Lucia remained astonishingly silent, listening to the questions and answers instead.

At some point, Rafael asked Sonny to relax, which was rather unusual. Most times, it was the other way round. So Sonny chuckled and reached out to squeeze Rafael's hand. That was the moment when the atmosphere changed and everyone seemed to enjoy their dinner even more.

A couple of times, Sonny caught Lucia smiling at him approvingly.

Once, Rafael surprised him by kissing him in front of all of his relatives... and seeming happy and relaxed doing it.

After dessert, Rafael's aunts declared that they would like to retire. From then on, it did not take long until only Sonny, Rafael, and Lucia were left.

“I should leave you two alone,” Lucia said. “Rafael, it was a wonderful evening. Thank you.” Wrapping him up into a loving embrace, she said goodnight to him. “Sonny, would you see me out?”

“Sure,” he agreed.

In the hallway, he helped her into her coat.

“Thank you, Sonny,” Lucia smiled at him. “You really are a peach.”

Uncertain about what to tell her, he just smiled. He had a feeling that she was not finished with him yet, and he was not mistaken.

“You know, Sonny,” she said, sounding wistful. “Rafael is my only son. I want him to be happy. That's why I had to learn more about you. More than just seeing the look in Rafa's eyes when he talks about you. I was afraid to find that this would be one more thing that was doomed to fail from the start.” Her gaze became soft as she stepped even closer and caressed Sonny's cheek. “Be careful, okay? I've never seen this in Rafa before. You have the power to destroy him... or be the light of his life.”

“I intend to be the latter,” Sonny promised and it came from his heart.

“Good,” she smiled. “I wish you all the good luck.”

She was halfway out the door when she looked back over her shoulder and winked, “You will need it.”

With that, she was gone.

When Sonny returned to the living room, Rafael was gathering plates and cutlery on a tray. Noticing his lover behind him, he paused and turned to him.

“Did she threaten to skin you alive if you don't treat me right?”

“Something like that,” Sonny confirmed.

Rafael scoffed.

“Will I have to expect the same from your mom?”

“Likely.”

Groaning, Rafael resumed clearing the table.

“Leave it,” Sonny demanded.

“Who's supposed to do it instead?” Rafael scolded, referring to Sonny's previous performance, “Mary Poppins?”

“If you don't leave the dishes alone,” Sonny snarled with a seductive edge to it and wrapped his arms around Rafael from behind, “and accompany me to the bedroom, I'll have to file a suit on grounds of willful neglect.”

Rafael chuckled, leaning into his lover's hold.

“Good argument, Counselor.”

“I'm learning from the best,” Sonny snickered against his neck. “Come.”

 

_The End_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they live happily ever after! They're adopting children and, after retiring, Sonny joins Rafael at the DA's office...  
> Jeez! This really took on a life of its own! I had to stop somewhere! LOL Thank you for reading.


End file.
